Shattered life?

1 months ago

Mikky

@MidnightLibrary

Shattered life?

Shattered life?

The police SUV tore through the dusty, narrow road skirting the forest, heading towards an old temple..Headlights slice through the mist, curling above the earth like breath from the underworld. Inside, the air was thick with silence — the atmosphere inside the car was clogged with tension and a new thrill to finally remove the veil.

Suddenly, another white colour car was shown under the yellow light of the SUV.

Ravindra's voice broke through the quiet, sharp and urgent. “Sir! That’s Christopher D’Souza's car .

Zunaid's eyes narrowed . Zoya's fingers twitched near the trigger of her service pistol. Stretching her hand outside the window, she pulled the trigger aiming ahead ,

“Don’t shoot , Zoya !” Zunaid stopped by raising his hand up , keeping it in the air showing his string palm

Zoya nodded, but her brows drew inward “ But, Sir, We found the photograph of all the victims in his house "

Officer Shreya, and Ravindra both stared at the senior officer , confused.

Zunaid’s voice was calm but cold. “Christopher D'Souza is not the killer.”

“ What!!!” three officers' voices laced with shock and confusion let out together

Zunaid nodded his head in agreement gesture

Ravindra blinked. “Then who is it, Sir ?”

Zunaid’s eyes flicked to the glowing dots on his phone — the location tracker pulsing steadily toward the old temple. He exhaled slowly, his voice now a low growl.

“The killer is clever. Smarter than any of us expected. She was always near us… watching, listening, and guiding our every move. She anticipated our steps before we took them.”

Zoya frowned. “She? Who?? …is it Mrs. Sanyogita Malhotra?”

Zunaid’s eyes didn’t leave the road. “No, Zoya. It’s someone else.She was completely aware of the fact that police would first suspect Sanyogita and Prithvi Malhotra as a prime suspect. ”He turned towards Ravindra who was driving the car , commanded “ Ravindra followed the car , but didn't let him know about our presence.”

“ Sir you said , Christopher isn't the killer then what will be the best to follow him ? Confusion etched on Officer Shreya's face

“ I said he isn't the killer , but I didn't tell Christopher D'Souza is innocent; he must have helped the killer . We don’t have much time on our hands,” Zunaid said, his tone dripping with puzzlement . “If we make one wrong move now, we may face another murder. Nishant Rana… he’s her final target.”

Ravindra turned in his seat to look at ASP Zoya and Officer Shreya sitting behind, who were still leaning forward, every muscle taut with the thrill of the moment.

“ But , Sir , Nishant Ranawat is not a saint….

“ I know Ravindra, but for punishing a culprit it's only under the law's hands “ Zunaid's expression was firm . Deep inside he was accusing himself of defending on the behalf of a criminal.

Officer Shreya's voice cut through the stillness of the silence laced with surprise " Who is this, she , sir?”

Zunaid’s jaw clenched. “Someone we trusted.”

Zoya and Officer Shreya’s eyes widened with shock.

The forest thickened around them as they drove deeper. The air grew heavier, damp with rot and secrets. Branches clawed at the vehicle as if trying to hold them back.

Zunaid's intuition told him Christopher would see the police SUV in the rear view of the car . But what he was doing here , “Is he helping the killer anyhow?” He asked himself. He instructed Ravindra to take another route and overtook Christopher Disney before letting him know about the arrival of the police.

At last, they reached a clearing — moonlight slicing through the trees in eerie streaks. Zunaid immediately spotted Christopher getting out of the car, glancing back through the rearview mirror. He had seen them. But he wasn’t running.

The police convoy halted at the end of the winding dirt path. The dense forest loomed like a wall of secrets, shrouded in moonlight and fog. Somewhere in its heart stood an abandoned, crumbling house — its roof partially collapsed, its walls cloaked in moss and ivy.

Zunaid stepped out silently, motioning the others to fan out. His GPS beeped. The last location pinged — they were within a hundred meters of the old temple.

Zunaid and his team moved in silently, weapons drawn, flashlights slicing through the darkness like scythes . The atmosphere felt heavy , thick with something primal — death.

As they pushed open the creaking door, a putrid smell assaulted their senses, making their stomachs churn.

Their lights swept over the floor — and they froze.

The room was a gruesome tableau, frozen in time. Nishant's lifeless body lay sprawled across the center, his eyes wide open in terror, as if death had caught him mid-scream. The state of his body made their blood run cold — battered beyond recognition, a testament to the brutality of the killer.

The walls were smeared with blood, like a macabre painting, and the air was heavy with the metallic scent of blood and decay. The contrast between the gruesome scene and the odd decoration of flowers around the room only added to the sense of unease.

Zunaid’s eyes swept the room, his instincts sharpening.

Something felt different. Unlike the precision and eerie silence of the previous two murders, this crime scene was messy — It screamed of rage and revenge.

“The killer didn’t just kill him, played with him. Made him feel every ounce of fear before finishing it.” Zunaid muttered under his breath. “

Officer Shreya’s torchlight flickered across the decaying walls, and then —

“Oh my God…”

Everyone turned as her beam caught a horrifying sight.

Tied to an old wooden chair, slumped forward, blood pooling beneath him — was a man, older, frail, his body brutally beaten. His shirt was soaked in crimson, deep cuts lined his arms and neck. His head lolled slightly to the side.

Zoya stepped forward — then froze.

“It’s… Nishant’s father…”

The torchlight moved upward — and then they saw it.

A clean, circular hole in the center of his forehead, the skin around it charred and cracked from the heat of a close-range shot. Blood had trickled from the wound in thin rivulets down his face, now dried into grotesque patterns. His lifeless eyes were still slightly open, glassy and void, staring into nothingness.

The bullet had left no room for survival — it was cold, clinical, execution-style.

Zunaid stepped closer, a muscle tightening in his jaw.

“She made him watch his son die,” he murmured grimly. “And then she finished the cycle. But the question is why? “Question swirled through Zunaid's mind

He comprehends the killer not just to end lives, but to make her victims suffer — physically, psychologically, and completely.

Suddenly, the beam of Officer Shreya’s torch halted.

A tall figure stood at the far end of the room, half-shadowed, half-lit — unmoving, yet unmistakably dominant.

A pistol dangled from his right hand, catching the torchlight in a sinister glint. His frame was statuesque, military-straight. Silent. Waiting.

Ravindra’s hand flew to his holster as he stepped forward cautiously.

“Drop the weapon!” he barked.

The man didn’t flinch.

His expression was cold. Detached. Haunted.

Ravindra advanced with measured steps, eyes locked on the suspect.

“You are under arrest, Mr. Christopher D’Souza — ex-Army officer.” His voice was steady, but his heart was pounding.

Officer Shreya quickly moved behind him, her hands swift and trained. With a sharp click, she slapped the handcuffs around Christopher’s wrists.

“Don’t move,” she warned.

“We’ve already collected the evidence,” Ravindra added sharply. “Including the diary from your room. It’s over.”

Christopher lifted his head slightly, a flicker of amusement dancing in his tired eyes. A slow, mocking smile crept across his face. “I was wondering,” he said dryly, his tone dipped in sarcasm, “What took you and your clever little team so long to get here?”

Zunaid’s eyes narrowed. His grip on his weapon never loosened.

“Don’t be smart, D’Souza,” Ravindra snapped. “You’re done playing games.”

For a beat, the air thickened with silence. Then, Christopher raised his chin and stared directly at Zunaid.

“ I accepted my crime . I'm the killer , arrest me “ Christopher said, his voice was firm, eyes determined

“We will “ Ravindra replied

The room stood still. But something in his voice didn’t sit right with Zunaid — it was too easy. Too rehearsed.

Zunaid's instincts screamed. Something was off.

This man might be many things — ex-soldier, witness, even an accomplice.

But he wasn’t the real killer behind these murders.

And Zunaid knew…

The real killer was still out there — possibly watching.

Zunaid, who had remained silent throughout the tense exchange, finally parted his lips.

His voice was low, unshakable.

“Where is she?”

Christopher tilted his head slightly, feigning ignorance.

“Who?”

Zunaid’s eyes darkened. “You know exactly who I’m talking about, Mr. D’Souza.”

His tone was razor-sharp. “Stop wasting my time.”

But Christopher stayed firm. Calm. Too calm.

“I already told you… I’m the killer. Arrest me. Send me to the gallows. I don’t care.”

Zunaid took a long, quiet breath, then turned to Ravindra and Shreya.

“Take him to the police vehicle. Keep him under tight watch.”

Then he added, cold and clipped, “Inform the forensic team. We need every inch of this place combed.”

He looked back at Christopher one last time. His voice dropped to a whisper meant only for him.

“Because I know you’re lying. And the real killer… is still somewhere in this forest.”

The words hung in the air like fog.

Zoya, Shreya, and Ravindra all stared at Zunaid, mouths slightly ajar. Shock and confusion were written across their faces.

Zunaid didn’t wait —His instincts had already taken over. He searched the entire room , flashlight slicing through shadows . Seeking the invisible presence he knew was there.

Then—

BANG!

A gunshot tore through the silence like lightning through a graveyard.

“Zoyaaaaaa!” Zunaid roared as he spun around.

Behind him, ASP Zoya dropped to the ground with a cry, clutching her hand, blood spurting between her fingers.

Zunaid’s eyes widened, a rare flash of raw emotion surfacing. He dropped to his knees beside her.

She gritted her teeth and stopped him with her good hand.

“Sir, go,” she said, voice trembling but resolute. “Don’t stop. Don’t let the killer escape. We trust you, sir. We always have!”

Officer Shreya had already bolted after the shadowy figure vanishing into the trees, cutting through thorns and leaves like a bullet herself. She reached Zoya just in time to tie a handkerchief around the bleeding wound.

“Sir!” Zoya shouted again, her voice cracking. “She’s running—don’t let her go!”

Zunaid stood. Determined.

Eyes locked on the darkness ahead.

The hunt wasn’t over. Not yet.

And tonight, it had to end.

Zunaid darted out into the darkness, heart hammering like a war drum.

The forest had come alive — a violent symphony of echoing gunfire, frantic shouts, and the relentless crunch of dry leaves under hurried boots.

The moon was cloaked by clouds, casting the woods in a breathless black. Shadows twisted with every movement. Tree branches reached like claws.

His breath grew ragged. The stitches on his abdomen — the aftermath of a surgery just 22 hours ago — screamed with every step, but his long legs drove him forward.

He had no time to care about pain. The killer was near. He could feel her presence — sharp, calculating, watching.

Suddenly, a figure blurred past the undergrowth, swift as a panther, clothed in a black hoodie, face masked by the night. She moved with intent, like she knew every root, every tree, every blind spot

Shreya!” Zunaid caught sight of her weaving through the trees, torchlight flashing.

She looked over her shoulder, panic in her eyes. “Sir! You need to stop. You're not even a day out of surgery!”

Zunaid waved her off, stubbornness burning in his eyes.

“I don’t care about myself. You need to be safe, Shreya. The killer is clever — and cruel. I won’t watch another officer fall tonight.”

Shreya’s breath hitched. “We feel the same for you, sir.”

Before either could say more, a shot tore through the trees — grazing bark, splitting silence.

The figure in the hoodie had turned around mid-run — and fired.

Zunaid ducked instinctively. The bullet skimmed past his shoulder, embedding into a tree behind him.

Shreya dropped, rolled, and came back up with her pistol drawn.

“She's luring us,” Zunaid hissed. “She’s not just running — she’s playing.”

The figure sprinted deeper into the forest, zigzagging through the maze of trees. Her steps were calculated — leaving broken twigs, false trails, and backtracks. She was trying to confuse them.

This wasn’t desperation. It was choreography.

Zunaid raised his weapon. Fired.

The bullet missed — barely.

The killer twisted like a shadow and returned fire in one smooth motion, the muzzle flash flaring like a demon’s eye in the dark.

Another near miss.

Zunaid stumbled behind a tree, wincing. Blood soaked a patch of his shirt — the wound from before had reopened.

Shreya reached him, hand gripping his arm. “Sir—your stitches—”

“I’ll live. She won’t get away. Not tonight.”

Overhead, the wind howled through the treetops like a warning.

The forest had turned into a nightmare stage.

And somewhere ahead…

The killer was waiting — hiding behind the silence, with more than bullets up her sleeve.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

A figure stumbled through the forest, her shawl clutched tightly around her like a shield against both the cold and the ghosts chasing her through the night. Each step she took was unsure, her slippers catching on twisted roots and fallen leaves, but she didn’t stop. Her breath came in rapid, fogged puffs in the chilly air, her heart beating wildly beneath the weight of dread and disorientation.

Her mind reeled with flashes — blood staining the ground, a lifeless face, the sound of muffled cries, a veil, a gun. Voices from the past and present bled together into a dissonant storm in her head. The darkness was alive with whispers, with memory, with fear.

Suddenly, a hand gripped her wrist. She froze. A jolt of icy panic surged through her spine as she spun around, gasping — expecting the face of a monster, a killer.

But what did she see instead…

Her breath caught in her throat. For a moment , no sound came out of her mouth except the trembling inhale .

He stood there , illuminating the flashlight of his mobile.His face was streaked with dirt, his shirt half untucked, hair damp with sweat . But it was his eyes that told the truth — wide, wild, brimming with disbelief, and wet with unshed tears.

“P…..Prithvi?”

But he didn’t let her finish. With a sharp exhale, he pulled her into his arms, clutching her like a man who had nearly drowned and finally found air. Her shawl slipped from her shoulders as his arms wrapped around her body with desperate certainty, anchoring her, grounding her.

For a few seconds, the world shrank — no killers, no police, no blood. Just two hearts trying to find each other again in the chaos.

She clutched him back, burying her face into his chest. Her tears soaked into his shirt. His arms trembled, but he didn’t let go.

They only pulled apart slightly — just enough to look at each other.

His hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing over her damp cheeks.

“I thought I’d lost you ….Jaan ,” he whispered, voice raw, cracking.

She stared at him like she was afraid he’d vanish if she blinked. “Is it really—?”

But he didn’t let her finish. He didn’t need to.

She smiled weakly through her tears. “Six days away from you felt like six lifetimes.”

He shook his head slightly. “Never again. I'll never let you go this time . ”

And then —

A single gunshot cracked the air like a scream, slicing through the stillness of the night.

Both of them froze, breath hitching, and the bodies tense.

Their eyes met again — this time, wide with dread.

Far off, in the forest’s shadow, a figure ran, the darkness swallowing them up.

In the torchlight, they saw a figure dash through the trees — dark veil flowing behind, guns glinting in the moonlight.

Sanyogita’s eyes widened . She recognized the figure……..”NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO” a large scream came out of her mouth , making her throat dry ….

Before anyone could stop her, she ran after the figure.

“ Sanyo don’t gooooooo. !” Prithvi yelled, but she was already lost in the shadows.

The Moment of Reckoning

Zunaid raised his gun , eyes locked on the veiled figure kept running.

He shouted, “Hands up! Don’t move!”

The figure didn’t stop.

Finger tightening on the trigger, he was about to fire — when Sanyogita burst from the trees and flung herself in front.

BANG!

The bullet tore through her chest. “ Prithviii!!!!! The word escaped through her mouth as her body crumpled to the ground.

Everything stopped. The air , the time, seemed to halt in the darkness.

“SANYOGITAAAAAAAAA !” Prithvi screamed from behind, his voice breaking. Fear gripped him like suffocation , almost stopping his breathing. The world beneath his feet crumbles . For moments he couldn't comprehend what to do .

Zunaid staggered back in horror.

The veiled figure dropped to her knees beside the fallen woman, pulling off the scarf with trembling hands.

Everyone froze.

It was Dr. Meera.

Tears streaked down her cheeks as she cradled Sanyogita in her lap, patting her cheeks, desperately trying to keep her conscious.

“Maa… Maa, please… stay with me… you can’t leave me… not like this…”

The revelation shattered everyone.

Shreya’s lips parted in shock. Zoya came and stood as surprised as confused .

“Why was Dr. Meera addressing Mrs Sanyogita Malhotra as … her mother?” Shreya whispered.

Zunaid couldn’t breathe. Guilt coursed through his veins. It was never his intention to shoot Sanyogita bhabhi .

Meera clutched her mother’s hand, rocking her slightly, consumed in grief. But then, her face hardened. She picked up her gun, turned to Zunaid — eyes blazing with rage.

"You shot her! YOU—!" Meera's eyes were burning furry . She raised the gun .

But before she could pull the trigger — a sharp shot rang out.

ASP Zoya’s bullet hit Meera’s arm.

Meera cried out in pain. The gun dropped to the ground with a metallic clatter.

Prithvi's world crumbled as he rushed forward, his eyes wide with desperation. He took his wife in his lap , her fragile body limp against his chest and patted her cheeks and

His voice cracked as he pleaded, “ S….San….Sanyo….. hold on… just hold on…Jaan …nothing will happen to you …I won't let anything happen The words tumbled out, laced with anguish, as he patted her cheeks. His eyes brimmed with warm tears, and he buried his face in her hair, inhaling her natural fragrance of her body , and her sweaty skin.

Her breath was shallow, weak, and erratic, each gasping a dagger to Prithvi's heart.

Without wasting a second, he lifted her gently , cradling her in his arms and rushed to his car. carried her to his car. Blood soaked his shirt,staining the fabric crimson, but he didn’t care. His only focus was getting his wife to safety.

As he sped down the forest road, his heart pounded in his throat, his world bleeding with every passing moment. The trees blurred together, a green and brown haze, as he navigated the winding road.

Behind them, Meera sat cuffed, her eyes vacant and lifeless. Zunaid stood over her, his face etched with a mix of disgust and sorrow.

Behind them, Meera was cuffed, her eyes were shallow . Lifeless.

Zunaid stood over her, his face etched with a mixture of guilt and frustration more by the tragedy than by the crime.

But Meera didn’t resist.

She didn’t speak.

Her silence was a haunting testament to the tragedy that had unfolded.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

MUMBAI SUPER SPECIALITY HOSPITAL – NIGHT

Sanyogita was rushed into the operation theatre. The best doctors at Mumbai Super Speciality Hospital were working tirelessly, battling against time to save her life.

Outside the OT, Prithvi sat frozen on a metal chair. His shirt was soaked in blood—her blood. It had seeped into his neckline, clinging cold against his skin. His hands trembled, and his eyes were fixed on the glowing red light above the OT doors. Time seemed to stretch unbearably.

Rest of the Malhotra family had already gathered. Shambhavi and Annaya flanked Sanyogita’s mother, offering silent support as she stood like a statue. Her face was pale, lips moving in broken whispers of prayer. Her eyes were hollow, distant—lost in the nightmare unfolding before her.

“God,” she whispered, “ You gave me justice for one daughter by taking away the other? What sort of puzzle you have thrown my daughter GOD! Take my life instead… spare my Sanyogita…” her lips trembled.

Anushka stood close to Prithvi, her hand resting on his shoulder, grounding him. She didn't speak—she couldn’t. The weight in the air made words feel useless.

Ariyan leaned against the wall nearby, his expression dazed. He couldn’t reconcile reality with what he had believed.

“The one I thought was pure... the one I love , I adore, was behind it all,” he murmured to himself, unable to accept the truth.

Abhiram, Prithvi’s father, stood silently a few steps behind. His stoic face was a mask hiding a storm. He had no words for his son—none that would matter. His daughter-in-law was battling against life and death . His grandchild’s fate hung in limbo. All he could do was wait.

Beside him, Avinash, Prithvi’s uncle, paced restlessly, eyes occasionally darting toward the OT, silently willing for good news.

Moments later, the OT doors slid open.

A senior doctor stepped out, pulling down his surgical mask. His face was drawn, voice calm but heavy with exhaustion.

“Mr. Malhotra?”

Prithvi, deep thoughts halted , his heart pounding in his chest , as he looked up at the doctor. He was about to stand on his legs but the doctor seemed to understand his situation and let him sit as it was .

“We removed the bullet,” the doctor said, steadying his tone. “Thankfully, it missed her heart. But her pulse is dangerously weak, and her blood pressure is unstable. We’re shifting her to the ICU. The next 24 hours are critical. She needs a round-the-clock observation.”The doctor paused for a moment, as his voice laced with empathy. “ But make sure you all look happy …as losing a first child is very painful for the mother . And Mr. Prithvi Malhotra you have to be very strong . Yours wife need your support always ”

There was a moment of relief—until the doctor paused, and added gently, “But I’m sorry… we couldn’t save your child.”

Prithvi’s breathing stop for a while as someone has squeeze his lungs out . Anushka reached out, catching his arm as she could feel the storm blowing through him . Prithvi didn’t cry—his grief was too deep for tears. He tried to stay strong and supportive since the day he promised her on her wedding night . But he failed to save his child .

Sanyogita’s mother let out a guttural cry, muffled against Shambhavi’s shoulder.

Ananya's eyes were brimming with tears .

A heavy silence fell over the corridor. Grief hung in the air like a fog, suffocating everyone.

Justice had come… but at a cost none of them had ever imagined.

*********

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Author's note -

The most awaited chapter of "Punishment," the sequel to "Destiny of Love," has been uploaded tonight. The story has nearly ended , with just a single chapter and the epilogue remaining; both will be uploaded soon. I want to express my gratitude to all my online readers who have supported me throughout this journey. Your patience and love mean so much to me 💟☺️

Good night 🌉😴..

with regards..

Dr. Sabu🩺😍